


At Life’s End

by YumeAino



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeAino/pseuds/YumeAino
Summary: As Emperor Solus zos Galvus lies dying, his most important memories return to him in his last moments.
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Hades/Persephone, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 15





	At Life’s End

The darkest day has fallen upon the might of Garlemald. Today, the whole of the Garlean Empire, the provinces, and the lands which lie beyond its grasp, lie in wait with bated breath. All await word from the Imperial Palace, for the news which will shape the great nation’s future for decades to come. For today, an Emperor lies dying, and has yet to name a successor. Today, either a new emperor will seize the throne, or chaos will ensue as the throne lies empty.

Lying in his royal bed chambers, the once great Emperor Solus zos Galvus is now old, weak, and frail. His nearly lifeless body, now a skeletal mockery of what it once was. His eyes sunken, his skin as wrinkled and thin as a used sheet of paper, his hair and beard are long, wiry, and disheveled.

The chirurgeons encircle the bed, checking vitals and writing reports of their patient’s condition. Officials are pacing about the corridors as a silent anxiety hangs in the air. The emperor is still conscious, yet not responding to any inquiries. All attempts to ask about the successor are met with either soft groans of pain or labored breathing.

The emperor’s golden eyes fall shut as he attempts to block out the pain his all too mortal body is inflicting upon him and instead to think on his so carefully constructed plans. 

These fools’ attempts to get him to speak are all for naught. Of course he will not name a successor, as it is all part of the plan. To ensure that the next calamity is ushered in on schedule, he must inflict chaos upon this star. What better way to create chaos than to plunge the Empire into a war for succession? The timing is absolutely perfect. All that is left now is to leave the physical plane and allow this body to die.

Ahhh, death.... he had vowed to experience all of what a mortal life has to offer, and this was all that was left to accomplish. The final curtain shall fall over his existence as Solus zos Galvus and emerge only as Emet-Selch once again. 

Slowly, as his mind was sent adrift through all of the countless eons of his life, he as ever vowed to remember his fallen brethren, his long forgotten world, his cherished life in Amaurot when he was known as a proud member of the Convocation of Fourteen. A time when he was not inhabiting this weak, feeble, broken shell. He was known by another name then...

Hades.

Yes... he might have been Emet-Selch to all who looked to him for guidance and leadership, but he was Hades to those closest to him... to those who mattered most.

Who mattered most... but, who did matter most? He could not seem to recall. Why couldn’t he remember? Who was it?

As he struggled to delve deeper into the abyss of his mind all the while fighting against the overwhelming pain of this cursed flesh, a bright flash of light seemingly illuminated his mind’s eye.

This brilliant glow... it was so unmistakably beautiful, so hauntingly familiar... 

Yes, ‘twas the light of a soul, shining as brilliantly as the sun itself. He had never seen a more dazzling gleam, not since then...

Suddenly, a picture began to form before his eyes. Emet-Selch’s ancient heart nearly lept out of his chest when it became clear... it was her. 

Though he could not see the color of her hair from underneath the hood, nor the gleam in her eyes from the obscuring mask, but he would recognize that smile anywhere. 

Suddenly flashes of memories came one right after another: countless walks together in the city under the stars, contently napping in her garden, declarations of their shared love, innumerable nights of their bodies writhing in passion, their hands intertwined as their souls danced together, the kiss of their eternal bond... so many memories flooded his mind, so many that he had once forgotten.

The memories all came back one after another, until the last memory of her settled into place. Her body was beaten and broken, blood splattered her delicate face, and her eyes filled with tears as she accepted her fate. 

Her hand reached out to touch his tear-drenched cheek, and he immediately grabbed her hand in return. As tears began to overflow, she gently smiled up at him one last time. Her lilting voice was music to his ears as he finally recalled her last words to him:

Hades... promise me that you will come find me... that we will meet again in our next life...

In that moment, the chirurgeons simultaneously gasped as they saw the emperor stretched out his hand, but there was nothing for him to grasp. A single tear streamed down his cheek as his spoke one final word:

“Persephone...”

With one last gasp of air, his hand came crashing down, his arm falling off the side of the bed.

The chirurgeons ran to his bedside, checking for a pulse and feeling for any sign of remaining life. Yet, it was too late.

Emperor Solus zos Galvus was gone. 

———

The Imperial Palace flew into a state of panic. The late emperor spoke nothing about the fate of his empire before he had passed, save for one word on his dying breath.

Just who, or what, was this Persephone? 

No one had even the slightest clue of what it meant. Was it the name of his successor? A good theory to be sure, yet no one had ever heard of anyone with that name before. 

Was it perhaps a nickname for the late empress? Biographers quickly dismissed that idea, as he never had referred to her as such. Even he had scarcely mentioned her following her passing decades earlier.

Some suggested it was a code word of some sorts; a secret project in the works, maybe? This seemed probable, but there was no evidence of anything with the name Persephone that researchers could find.

No, the Emperor’s last word would remain a mystery to all, save for Emet-Selch himself, who had successfully plunged the Empire into chaos... for a time at least.

———

Several years later, after the defeat of Lahabrea, Elidibus summoned Emet-Selch back from the rift, as he was worried that the plans for the next calamity were in danger of falling apart. Emet-Selch went to admonish his grandson, the now Emperor of the Garlean Empire, and set him on the right track.

As he was leaving to travel to the First to oversee the preparations for the Eighth Umbral Calamity, Varis asked a question that he had not anticipated.

“Wait, I have one final question. On your deathbed, you spoke of a Persephone. Who is this Persephone?”

The Ascian stopped dead in his tracks. His heart fluttered and a genuine smile adorned his face. Thankfully he was turned away from his grandson, as he knew that his figurative mask had slipped way too far. 

Emet-Selch sighed and released all the tension that was built up inside with the utterance of his beloved’s name spoken out loud by someone else for the first time in millennia.

He looked over his shoulder with his ever flippant smirk, knowing full well the gesture would elicit the utmost annoyance in Varis. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”


End file.
